Who Wants to be a Hero?
by TaintedAngel26
Summary: They were here for one purpose. Prove your strength. Get the girl. Rule the land." The ultimate gameshow is coming to a plasma TV near you.
1. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: To anyone looking for an escape from fangir-ism, here is a relief. I want to show you the true meaning of a hero.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these guys.

Who Wants to Be a Hero?

_They came from every fandom possible._

_They came from the forests of Middle-Earth, from the rooftops of Gotham City, from the cliffs of Forks, from the seas of Narnia._

_They came armed and ready, most in their hottest clothes, others fresh from the Battle of Helms Deep (ahem ahem). Swords hung at their waists, bows were slung over their shoulders, guns grasped in their fists. One particular guy came armed with nothing but his teeth (cough cough).There were a couple of the leather-jumpsuit jocks, but they got eliminated pretty early on. Anyways…_

_They were here for one purpose. Prove your strength. Get the Girl. Rule the land._

_So, on that note, I ask you…_

WHO WANTS TO BE A HERO?


	2. Sunny Day

Chapter One—Sunny Day

I agree with Garfield—Mondays are definitely the worst days EVER. They suck. Everything goes wrong and I'm usually blamed for it...go figure.

One particular Monday was the pits. I would rather have entertained Uruk-Hai at a Victorian tea party than watch that..._game show_ on TV. Ugh. First of all, _Who Wants to be a Hero?_ immediately sounded like a really lame spin-off of _Who Wants to be a Millionaire?._ I knew right-off I would rather be a millionaire than a hero...or heroine, rather, so I was already opposed to it. Then, I got a phone call....it was from Simon Cowell. Well, actually, it was from his _manager_. All the guy said was that Simon had laryngitis (I guess the contestants were rejoicing) and, seeing as how he couldn't fire off his usual insults without his voice, the producer had recommended me to take his place. WHY???? The manager-guy said something about my "superb talent for judging." Vague enough—I guess it was because I was a guest judge on _Can YOU Speak Huttese?_ a couple years ago....remind me never to do that again.

Anyway, the manager just hung up, obviously assuming that I was gung-ho for the job. Yeah, right. Either way, I was stuck with a job I hated that was no doubt going to be broadcasted on international television. Crud.

So, I got to the NBC building at exactly twelve minutes past eight that Monday, and by the time I had located the appropriate studio, I was already beginning to feel nervous. Why? I'll tell you.

Standing outside Studio 13 was Aragorn—not Viggo Mortensen, _Aragorn himself._ Next to him was Legolas—_the_ Legolas Greenleaf. I rubbed my eyes and just stood there staring as they chatted nonchalantly. What was wrong with this picture? Maybe the fact that, last time I checked, I lived in D.C., not Middle-Earth. For once in my life, I began to envy Simon Cowell. I silently panicked and made a beeline away from the studio to the elevator. If this was some kind of practical joke, I was out of here.

I called the elevator frantically. The door opened to reveal none other than Edmund and Peter Pevensie. In Narnian attire. I must have looked like a maniac, shrieking and running down the hall towards the staircase. By the time I reached the first landing, I was almost accidentally severed by a lightsaber as Obi-Wan Kenobi rushed up in the opposite direction. I kept on running until I reached the bottom. I dashed out the front door and collapsed on the steps. It was obvious to me that this whole affair was one of three things: one, a practical joke, two, a nightmare, or three, a test tube experiment gone _horribly_ wrong. I was starting to side with three when I saw Batman park his car in the lot. And was that the _Enterprise_ hovering over the building? Yeesh-o-rama.

For now, I had two choices: run or judge. Running sounded promising and even sort of fun. Then, it dawned on me. _Who Want to be a Hero...._that was the title. And all the guys I had seen—they were all heroes (well, I could argue on the Captain Kirk case). Now I saw the relevance of the show. This was not going to be an ordinary gameshow. This was sure not going to be an ordinary afternoon.

I was beginning to get excited now—a chance to talk to some of my all-time favourite fictional characters! And the prospect of meeting Legolas...that was too good to pass on. SWEETNESS!

I swiftly stood up and walked briskly to the front desk.

"Hi, Sunny," said the receptionist. "Was that you running out of here a few minutes ago?"

"Uh, never mind," I said. "Hey, can I get the list of contestants for this...game show?"

"Sure, right here," the receptionist said, handing me a clipboard that was bulging with papers. I was a little scared, but generally undeterred. Deep breath, close your eyes, and jump in—sort of the same principle as for jumping off the high dive.

I climbed back up the steps and marched straight into the studio. Oh, Lord. Please, _please_ tell me that wasn't who I though it was. EDWARD CULLEN?

I wheeled around on my heels and marched straight out again. I nearly ran into the producer. I asked him straight out:

"Rob, _why_ is Edward Cullen standing there? He's, like, the loser of the century? I thought this show was about heroes, not emos!"

"Sorry, Sunny—fangirls from across the country voted him on. Oh, and I guess I should let you know that Jacob's here, too. By the coffee machine down the hall."

"Jacob _Black_?"

"Bingo."

"The _werewolf_?"

"Yup."

"From _Twilight_?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Shirtless?"

"Please don't faint, Sunny..."

"What kind of a show is this?" I asked weakly, like a crippled mouse in a full-body cast.

"Look on the bright side, Sunny—"

"No _puns_, Rob."

"Sorry—but you know, you're a judge. You can just vote him off the show."

_Gosh,_ I thought as Rob disappeared down the hallway, _I never thought of that. Ha. This is going to be fun!_


End file.
